Bundle: (n) a collection of things, or a quantity of material, tied or wrapped up together.
I only lasted one day on the job. I got confused on what to do, so ended up quitting.
It was a lumber company.
Since I was the newbie, the manager asked me to go out back and find pieces of scrap wood which were about the same length, and bundle them together, tie them off and place them in a pile near the wood shop.
I understood the assignment–at least, I thought I did. But when he returned and I was ready for praise, he immediately began to un-bundle my pieces of wood, explaining that I had put pine in with oak and press board with walnut.
I bungled my bundling.
He had another rule–one which he understood and I didn’t, because after all, it was my first day. He was a little disgusted that I couldn’t tell the difference by texture and color. I thought the only distinction was supposed to be length.
I was wrong.
Truthfully, I run across the same problem every day as I am instructed by society to bundle up people into groups. At first, I thought the only way I was supposed to set them apart was, “These are the nice ones that can be treated nicely and respond well, and these are the meaner ones which require being treated even nicer.”
But they keep changing the rules.
They’ve introduced culture, color, sexual preference, gender, age, political persuasion and religion.
So there’s never really any way to get things bundled. There are too many considerations to adequately discern what should go together and what should be separated.
Bundling is the way we try to put things that are similar into one unit.
But of course, if we don’t accept the fact that similarity is possible, we will just end up being scattered wood.